Josie, my oldest, has her ways. I’ve described at some point in this blog’s past how she will sometimes stand next to me and swing her tail so that it wraps around me. I think it’s one of her several means of showing affection, or perhaps simply letting me know that she is there. But that rat-tail of hers serves another purpose.
When My Chubs is expecting something, or wants something, such as dinner, she will stand near something wooden, the micro-wave oven stand, for example, or the partition that separates the dining area from the entrance hall. She will swing her tail and make a continual thumping noise, indicating her slight impatience (greater impatience is demonstrated by a creaky squeal like the failing brakes of a runaway locomotive.)
She must know that her tail is thumping, and she has done it too often for it to be accidental. It is her summons. If she were human, Madam Josefina von Chubs would be ringing a handbell like a maniacal Christmas carol performer at a church fête, and expecting the footman to come running. (I am the only running footman.)
I am learning all the time about cats and their ways, their intelligence, their improvisations, and their individuality. In Josie, I clearly have all three to deal with simultaneously.